


Aftermath

by SherlockMalfoy



Series: Sherlock!Wizardverse Drabbles - Drarry [9]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, post Last Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-17
Updated: 2012-08-17
Packaged: 2017-11-12 07:58:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/488530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockMalfoy/pseuds/SherlockMalfoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The battle has ended. The war is over. He should feel relieved, happy, sad, glad, angry... But Harry can't feel anything at all. Not until he knows that Draco survived.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> This is from a HBP AU fic in progress, and as such may not end up as part of the Sherlock!Wizardverse official canon.
> 
> Original Tumblr Anon Prompt: Draco's injured and Neville is awesome. Maybe after the Hogwarts Battle? Or sometime during 7th year.

When the dust had settled, and the first light of dawn streaked across the heavens it was clear to all who had survived the night that the terrible darkness that had plagued not just Hogwarts, but the whole of wizarding Britain, was fading. The vice grip of fear and intimidation was ebbing.  
        And the terrible war that had lasted for so long was finally over.  
        Harry Potter, the famous Boy Who Lived, was now the Man Who Conquered. The Saviour. Undisputed the most powerful wizard in all of Britain… Possibly the world at large.  
        As he was pulled to his feet, green eyes still staring at the place where once stood the most dangerous Dark Lord to have ever lived, he could not believe it was over. His entire life, all of it, had been to train and to fight and to bring him to here. To now. And there was nothing else.  
        He was hardly aware of who held him. Guided him among the bodies strewn about a courtyard where once he had sat and laughed. Where he and his friends had thrown snow balls in winter, or plotted on how best to get on Snape’s bad side.  
        Snape.  
        The memory of his face, his dying eyes…  
        “Come on, mate,” said a ragged voice at his side. Red hair. A Weasley, but not Ron.  
        He tried to place which brother it was, but he couldn’t quite be certain. It was overwhelming. All of it.  
        Shock?  
        No. Not shock. Nor was it relief. Not yet.  
        He felt numb. Like he was floating, drifting through. Despite this, he could hear the murmurs around him as if magnified. Feel the eyes on him as he was passed on to another warm body. This one he recognized easily. He’d been crushed to her bosom many a time growing up these last seven years. And now was no different, save for the intensity. She was sobbing. He cut his eyes to the side to see George. Yes, that was the one. One eared George.  
        He looked back up to Mrs. Weasley’s face. “…Fred…”  
        She held him tighter and sobbed again.  
        He stayed with them as long as he could… but there was so much sadness. So much sorrow and grief and…  
        Harry couldn’t feel any of it. He knew he should have. Fred was like a brother to him. But still…  
        He felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning to look away from the scene of sobbing red, he saw Neville. Face partially covered in hastily applied bandages. Burned, Harry knew, from the sorting hat, among other damage. “Harry,” he said softly, glancing briefly to the Weasleys before cutting his eyes to the wand that had never left Harry’s hand since the final duel. That look said more than words alone could manage.  
        Harry’s breath caught in his throat, his hand clenching around the hawthorn wand in his hand. “Where?” he said softly, finally able to feel something. A cold chill of fear as it crawled down his spine. “Where is he?”  
        Neville led him away, even as Ginny watched from where she crouched beside her elder brothers over Fred’s still, broken form. Her puffy eyes gleaming for just a minute in ill-timed jealousy as she watched Harry turn his back and leave them.  
        Longbottom led him through the maze of wounded that littered the halls of Hogwarts. Soon, the throng thinned out, and he was brought before a familiar looking portrait of a beautiful, regal woman. Harry looked to Neville questioningly. These were Draco and Apprentice Black’s rooms from sixth year. The portrait swung open without a word as Rowena Ravenclaw bowed her head somberly in acknowledgement of the young men.  
        Beyond the short hallway past the portrait hole, there was heard a low, angry growling. Harry’s heart beat faster as he heard Lucius Malfoy’s angry voice, demanding that someone step aside. Demanding to see his son. Narcissa’s wails of lament heralded Harry and Neville’s arrival into the common room.  
        The scene Harry and Neville came upon was a strange one. Apprentice Black was obviously injured himself, but stood protectively between the elder Malfoys and their own son. Draco was laid out carefully on a pile of blankets and pillows, obviously ripped from the furniture of the room.  
        Lucius turned the moment Harry had appeared, and the growling grew louder before short, clipped words were spoken. “One step and I’ll kill you, Death Eater.”  
        “Neville,” Harry said quietly. “See to Mrs. Malfoy-“  
        “But-“  
        “Please,” he said. “She… Please Nev.”  
        Carefully Harry approached, his hand tightening around the wand. Draco’s wand. He made sure Lucius could see it clearly as he approached Apprentice Black carefully. Allowing him to see he meant no harm, though he knew the Wolf would let him pass without question. Otherwise Neville would not have brought him here.  
        Silver eyes never left Lucius Malfoy as the man sniffed in Harry’s direction. Then, gave a small nod and shifted, just a little, out of the way. Given the all clear, Harry rushed to kneel at Draco’s side. The moment he touched that bruised face, and felt the faint bit of air against his fingers as it was exhaled from his nose, the numbness left him.  
        Feeling rushed back in, and all of the fear and the sadness and the pure relief that he should have felt upon his enemy’s defeat crashed upon him like a wave against the shore. Unable to stop himself he dropped the wand and pulled his lover into his arms. Choking out his name in a sob as he held him tightly. Behind him, more low, angry growls. “Let her come closer,” Harry managed to get out, and soon Narcissa was kneeling with him, trying to pull her son out of Harry’s arms. But he wouldn’t let go.  
        Emerald latched onto pale blue before finally, finally Harry gave a small nod and eased his grip. There was still more to be done. Draco was safe. Draco was still alive. After Mrs. Malfoy pulled her son away and into her own arms and lap, Harry leaned in closer. Keeping his voice low even as Lucius tried to convince his wife to take Draco and run.  
        “Mrs. Malfoy,” Harry said, straining to keep his voice from cracking. The woman wouldn’t look at him. “Narcissa,” he tried again. “Look at me… Please. Please look at me.”  
        She did not turn her head, but he could see her looking at him from the corner of her eyes. Good.  
        “If you try to leave with Draco, the Wolf will kill you. I can’t… I **won’t** stop him. Stay here. Watch over our dragon, and I’ll do what I can.”  
        “Lucius…”  
        “I’m not sorry,” Harry said. “He brought this on himself. And you’ve had to suffer for it.” He cast his green gaze on his lover. “You both have.”  
        “Will you… kill him?”  
        “If I must,” he said. “But no, not if I can avoid it.”  
        She nodded, and Harry leaned in just a bit closer, pressing his lips against a large bruise splashed across Draco’s exposed cheek. “I’ll be back as soon as I can with healers. Remember what I said.”  
        Another nod, and Harry picked up the wand. Standing, he straightened himself up to see Neville by the entry hall, wand raised and trained on Lucius. The other young man looked at him expectantly, as if waiting for orders. Harry should have been used to this by now… but he still wasn’t. No longer numb, no longer just drifting, he willed his emotions to sit back and wait. There would be time for tears and grief and joy later. Now… Now he had to resume his grand performance.  
        “Mycroft,” he said, using the man’s secret code name, and Apprentice Black’s head turned abruptly. Silver gaze studying him, dissecting him in the same manner Draco always had. “Stay with Draco. His mother will also stay, but if she tries to take him,” he said, trying to make his voice as cold and firm as he could. “You follow your orders.”  
        The head full of sandy blond, blood caked hair nodded. “What of-“  
        “Leave Mr. Malfoy to me,” Neville said, and even as Lucius began to protest, the younger man hissed a body bind at him.  
        Harry raised Draco’s wand, again making it very clear to the man who’s face was frozen in a look of pure contempt, exactly who it had once belonged to. He cast a levitation, then the charm to carry him along. “If I had my way,” he said, looking to Neville with a nod. “I’d leave you to the lions.” He paused, as if to wait for an answer he knew could not be made. “But I’m no Death Eater. If you’re lucky you’ll get the Kiss.”  
        Together Harry and Neville left the suite, Lucius Malfoy floating ahead of them. As they aproached the populated halls once more, many moved out of the way. Some spat on the once proud pure blood. Others actually hexed him as he was carried past, but Neville put a stop to those quickly enough. Making it known Harry didn’t want them stooping to the level of those they had just overcome.  
        Harry left Lucius with Neville to take to the aurors, not trusting his own words that he would not kill the man if he could avoid it. Because honestly, he wanted to. More than he wanted to stop Tom Riddle. But no. Instead, he left in search of a healer. Any healer. He didn’t care about his own injuries, not even the Wolf’s. But Draco… he needed to make sure…  
                                                  **o0o**  
        The parts of the school that were still in one piece were utilized. Anyone who could make even simple potions and were able to stand were put to work. Only the most critical were taken to St. Mungos, as there were too many to take all the injured at once. There would have been no room in the hospital to take them.  
        McGonogall took charge, with the help of a few survivors from the Order. Those able to walk and talk at the same time were also put to use.  
        Every dorm was occupied. Every bed filled.  
        The Great Hall had become a mortuary. Many wanted to leave the bodies of the enemy on the field of battle.  
        But when Harry himself had gone out and taken hold of a dead Death Eater by the ankles and dragged him inside, then gone out to get another, some joined him. But those were kept well and clear of those who had died a hero.  
        And each evening, as night began to fall, the new Headmistress of a damaged school would read out the additions to the list of the dead. Those who had just been found… Or those who had died from their injuries.  
        And each evening, when he knew it was safe to do so, Harry would slip away. Carefully evading all of his friends and seeking out the ever roving suite where his lover still lay unconscious.  
        After three weeks the school was finally being cleared out. The bodies of the opposition having been carted away for disposal, which Harry requested (but doubted would) be done with just a scrap of human decency. The rest were dealt with on an individual basis. Those that could took their loved ones home for burial. But there were still so many… and the Ministry could only do so much…  
        Harry was just thinking on this as he checked the map, trying to remember where the room would appear this time. He found Ron and Hermione waiting for him on the third floor, near the hall where they had discovered Fluffy in their first year.  
        “Told you he was heading here,” Ron said, holding up another map, nearly identical, to the one in Harry’s hand. Silently Harry cursed leaving his old map with Neville. “We haven’t had a chance to… Not since…”  
        Hermione rushed him then, pulling him into an embrace that rivaled Mrs. Weasley’s crushing hugs. But she let him go quickly. “Oh Harry!”  
        He looked past them, folding his own map, the one that had belonged to Remus, and putting it in his back pocket. “I can’t stay,” he said, hoping they would just leave him be. He knew they cared. And he did love his friends dearly. They had been through so much together over the last year. He knew they worried for him. They were concerned, and he silently debated with himself whether or not to let them come with him.  
        He nodded. “Come on then,” he said quietly. “But Ron…”  
        “I know, mate. I know.” He gave a nod in return as Harry led the way. “We’re looking for a portrait of Rowena Ravenclaw.”  
        “But Harry, there’s tons of them around the castle-“  
        “She’s in a dark green dress, and wearing a broach bearing a lion and snake crest.”  
        She glanced to Ron, who shrugged and looked around as they walked down the deserted corridor. Harry pulled out his map again, and nodded. “This way,” he said.  
        “Harry,” Hermione ventured, catching up to walk even with him. “I thought there was only one map. Your map.”  
        “Ron’s got my map. Well… Wormtail’s map. This one was Moony’s,” he said. “Draco’s got… had Padfoot’s. I’ll explain later. Right now, I need to find that damned portrait! Bloody woman keeps moving around.”  
        Finally they found her between two suits of rusted armor. Silently she eyed Hermione and Ron, and shook her head. “They’re my friends,” Harry said. But she did not reply. “You let Neville in!” he spat angrily.  
        “Because Neville Longbottom and I have an understanding, young man. Saviour or no, I’m not letting them in. Not without express permission from the young Lord Malfoy, whom I am honour bound if you will remember, to keep hidden.”  
        “Harry?” Ron asked by way of wanting an explanation.  
        Harry sighed, taking off his glasses and rubbing at his face. “Fine… Fine.” He turned to his friends, his back to the portrait. “She’s stubborn,” he said. “Wait here, okay. I’ll go in, see if I can get her to let you in.”  
        Ron opened his mouth to protest, but Hermione jabbed him with a sharp elbow. The pair of them stood back, making it clear they had no intention to follow Harry inside. Only when the woman in the portrait was assured of this did she open and allow entry.  
        It wasn’t but a few minutes later when the portrait swung open again and the still rough looking potions apprentice was standing there, holding it open. “In you go. Quiet now. Mrs. Malfoy’s finally asleep, so step carefully.”  
        “Mrs. Malfoy? But she-“  
        “She’s under Lord Potter’s protection, Miss Granger. Don’t you forget that. Mr. Weasley, mind your manners or I’ll toss you out on your bright red head.”  
        Ron muttered under his breath as he followed Hermione inside the dark entry hall. The portrait spoke up, but the man only growled at her, stating they were going to have some words later before he closed her back and the room itself vanished from the corridor.  
        The portrait faded, only to reappear elsewhere in the castle. This time near the astronomy tower.  
        Hermione and Ron looked around at the strange room. Enchanted windows allowed starlight to filter through ragged looking strips of curtains. Mrs. Malfoy lay sleeping in the corner on a cot, her blonde hair peeking out from beneath a heavy blanket. The man touched each of their shoulders and pointed to a door further inside the room. Giving a small nod in that direction.  
        Understanding what he meant, the remaining two-thirds of the Golden Trio quietly made their way across. The room beyond the large oak door was lit softly by candles enchanted to hover above their heads. The room was decorated in heavy greens, but rather than the silver they had expected, gold was interspersed throughout the designs. The edges of the room were filled with shelves crammed tightly with books and scrolls. A writing desk beneath another enchanted window was covered in parchment and bottles. A fireplace was on the opposite wall from the window, but was unlit for the moment. The mantle was crowded with small statues and various models of much larger and rather useful devices such as an astrolabe and a telescope.  
        “Hermione,” Ron whispered, catching her attention. He held her hand, and lifted it towards where Harry sat hunched over in a chair beside the four poster double bed. Head bent low as he clutched both hands around one belonging to a sleeping figure in the bed. The drapes around the bed were just as tattered as the curtains on the enchanted windows. These, such as they were, had been tied back.  
        The pair of them were shuffled to the side as the man came into the room, holding a tray laden with yet more bottles. “I’ve another batch ready,” he said, clearing a space on the writing desk and setting it down. “I’ll have another in the morning since I won’t be able to work through the next few nights.”  
        “Thanks,” Harry said tiredly. “Has he…”  
        He nodded. “Asking for Corvus, but he’s been in and out. I don’t think he’s even aware half the time what’s going on. He looked at his mother like he didn’t even know her.”  
        “He needs to be in the hospital,” Hermione said just loud enough she knew they could hear her.  
        Harry’s head turned so fast she thought she could feel a breeze. Green eyes glared at her as if she’d just suggested he clubbed baby seals for a living. “We have a healer coming every day,” he said, softening again as if just realizing who he was speaking to. “But there’s just no room at the hospital. He can’t go back to the Manor, and I… Not everyone was killed. Not everyone was caught. I need him here, where I can keep him safe.”  
        Hermione and Ron edged closer, and the young woman pulled her hand free from her boyfriend’s and laid it on Harry’s shoulder. She wanted to say something, but she knew there was nothing she could say to convince him otherwise. Because when Harry Potter made up his mind about something, well, not even Dumbledore was able to persuade him otherwise.  
        “We can stay with you tonight if you want,” Ron said. “That is, if you think, I mean-“  
        “There’s a spare room,” Apprentice Black said. “I used it to help train Draco in sixth year. I’ll prepare it, if it’s alright with Harry.”  
        “Yes,” he said. “Fine.” Hermione squeezed his shoulder gently before allowing herself to be led away with Ron.  
        Once settled for the night, their host of sorts asked where the other Weasleys were, then went off to inform them of Ron and Hermione’s whereabouts. Once they knew they were alone, the two Gryffindors quietly discussed their worries for their closest friend.  
                                                  **o0o**  
        Days passed, and Harry still pretended like everything was fine while outside Draco’s rooms. Ron and Hermione swore not to speak a word of what they’d found no matter who asked. Neville kept shooting them nervous glances as they went about their duties. Tending those who were still too injured to move.  
        Things seemed almost… normal as they bustled about. That was, until the reclusive apprentice appeared, stalking the halls in search of Harry.  
        Neville was the one he approached, and the young man’s only visible eye went wide. He nodded quickly before turning and leaving the hospital ward. Neville rushed to them.  
        “What’s happened? Is it-“  
        Neville nodded. “Where’s Harry? Last I knew, he was with you two.”  
        “I don’t… We don’t know,” Hermione said, looking worried. “Ron, you go look around Gryffindor tower. I’ll check near the kitchens and Neville, you take the dungeons.” Then, in a lower voice she added, “Did he say where they are this time?”  
        “Near the Room of Requirement,” he said just as quietly.  
        “I’ll finish up here. You two go on,” Ron said, still halfway through changing bandages. “We’ll meet up there then, yeah.”  
                                                   **o0o**  
        Hermione was the first to reach the portrait, and the woman in it eyed her with disdain. Soon Ron arrived, and reported a negative in his search.  
        Neville was third, with the apprentice and Harry at his heels. “Open up you old slag!” the apprentice barked loudly. And she swung forward without complaint. Whatever their chat must have been about, Hermione wondered, clearly it was downright rude and angry.  
        Once the portrait was open, they heard the shouting. Narcissa’s voice was trying in vain to be heard over her son’s as she attempted to calm him down. Harry pushed forward ahead of the others, running to the bedroom, followed closely by Neville, who quickly ushered a crying Mrs. Malfoy back into the common room before returning to help Harry with Draco.  
        Soon, it was quiet again save for the sniffling sounds of Mrs. Malfoy. Hermione watched her silently, holding onto Ron’s hand tightly. Soon, Neville came out once again. “It’s alright now,” he said. “Harry’s got him calmed down again.”  
        “Again?” Ron asked, freckled face drawn into a frown. “What do you mean… again?”  
        Neville glanced to the man behind them, who gave a small nod. “I think… there’s something you need to hear. About what’s happened while you guys were gone.”  
        “The room’s got firewhisky,” Apprentice Black said, giving a nod towards the training room door. “Two bottles worth, if you’ll be needing it.”  
        Hermione cast a worried glance back towards the bedroom before following Neville and Ron into the spare room. Apprentice Black stood near the enchanted window, back pressed against the stone and his arms crossed over his chest. Mrs. Malfoy’s tears had dried up, and the woman was now willing herself to maintain a mask of untouchable calm. And for a moment, Hermione had caught herself admiring her. Despite all the woman had been through, and the fact she bore the same mark on her skin as her husband, she still willingly sat among her enemies if only for her child.  
        “You coming?” Ron asked, drawing her from her thoughts, and at last into the spare room.  
                                                    **o0o**  
        Harry had dozed off, his back pressed against the ancient wooden headboard, with Draco leaning against him. Silently watching him as he slept. Despite having spent three weeks asleep, and his body desiring more, he made himself stay awake. The nightmares were too vivid, too real. And when Harry wasn’t there… It was almost like before the battle again. Like switching places with some of the students singled out by the Carrows. Helping them escape into the hands of Neville’s resistance while at the same time placing himself, disguised, into their distinct brand of punishment.  
        “You can go back to sleep,” Harry mumbled sleepily. “I’m not going anywhere.”  
        “You’ll be gone when I wake up,” Draco said simply, but allowed his grey eyes to close anyway. “You always are.”  
        “I have to help with the survivors. It’s still hell out there.”  
        “It’s hell inside my head,” Draco muttered, but allowed himself to settle into a light sleep, safe in the knowledge that at least for now, Harry wasn’t going anywhere.

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT 1/11/16: "Apprentice Watson" has been changed to "Apprentice Black".


End file.
